Snapshots
by Darling Pretty
Summary: 31 drabbles in 31 days. Most will be Mary/Bert because I'm me.
1. Beginning

**Okay, so here's the deal. Basically, I have decided to challenge myself. I have a list of 30 words and I'm going to attempt to post one drabble a day for 30 days. I just want to work at forcing myself to write, so hopefully I can apply the newly acquired discipline to my other stories. And I like drabbles. They're like playtime for me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

**As always I own nothing.**

_**beginning**_. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Beginning_

Mary was the sort of person who, once she was in your life, you could hardly remember a time without her. She filled your senses, completely clouded your mind with her presence.

At least, that's how Bert saw it.

But every story must have a beginning and so ours does with once upon a time.

Once upon a time…

Once upon a time, she hadn't been in his life. Once upon a time, colors were duller. Once upon a time, he wasn't in love.

Because, oh yes, he loved her. He loved her with every piece and part of his entire being.

But once upon a time, he hadn't. He hadn't known her at all. Until it all changed in the blink of an eye.

Once upon a time…

A makeshift kite with a makeshift tail, crafted lovingly for a younger brother and quickly tangled hopelessly in a tree. A young boy sighing as he realized the end of his fun. A murmured apology and a promise of a new kite, once the money could be rustled up. A rather sad end to a rather happy day.

But then… then the rustling of leaves, a switch in the wind. A woman with bright blue eyes and dark brown hair, incredibly prim and proper but just a hint of mischief about her as she offered her assistance. And in the blink of an eye, the kite was in her hand. In the blink of an eye, she introduced herself as Mary Poppins.

In the blink of an eye, he was in love.


	2. Accusation

**Day Two!**

**I don't promise that these will always be in order, but this one is.**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. _**accusation.**_ restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Accusation_

"You're not happy."

Three little words, patently untrue but ringing with an earnest concern.

Mary blinks when Bert says it, her brow furrowing as she tries to comprehend this turn of events. He's never even had the guts to reveal anything to her beyond his always congenial smile yet now he has the gall to accuse her of unhappiness.

Mary Poppins, unhappy! The very thought!

How could she possibly be unhappy with all that life has to offer? It's simply absurd. She has everything she's ever dreamed and wanted. She gets to spend her life doing good, making people whole again. She has a best friend and a strong support system in her friends. She's made a life and a name for herself. How on earth could she possibly be unhappy?

"I am perfectly content, thank you!" she informs him primly.

"That isn't the same thing at all!" he insists, shaking his head.

"Oh? And what is _your _definition of happiness, may I ask, since you seem to be so very well-versed!"

He throws his hands up, almost in frustration. "I don't know! You should be… deliriously 'appy!"

Her eyes narrow doubtfully. "Delirious?"

"Sure! Because that's what you deserve, Mary. Delirious, overjoyed, dancing in th' rain with th' one you love, plain ol' 'appiness!"

"Dancing in the rain? Me? Forgive me, but I don't see catching cold as anything to celebrate."

And all of a sudden he just shakes his head and looks horribly disappointed. "Mary, y' may be practically perfect, but sometimes y' just can't see past th' end of your nose."

She frowns then. He's accusing her of something, but just what, she can't figure out.


	3. Restless

**I'm going to ask you for one favor. I'm using these drabbles as a way to just play around with my writing style and as a way to improve. So I just would really, really appreciate if you could let me know if there's something you particularly like or hate. I'm not asking you to review all the time, but just if there's something that strikes you, it would really help me grow as a writer. Thanks!**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. _**restless.**_ snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Restless_

The wind feels itchy and uncomfortable. Soon it will change and then it will be time to move on. She paces back and forth in her room, waiting for the shift in the wind that will signal her departure. Crossing to the window, she pulls the curtain back and studies the air critically.

A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth, just barely noticeable.

Quickly, she begins packing, carefully placing her mirror and hat stand back into her carpetbag. She finishes within ten minutes, but still the wind doesn't change.

That's annoying; she's ready to go. The family needs no more work and she is ready to go home. Well, ready to go back to London.

Her skin is covered in goose bumps and it feels as if she just might burst open. The wind can't change fast enough.

She certainly isn't one for goodbyes. They are so final and terribly taxing. She leaves so often that it would be simply irresponsible of her to constantly be saying them.

Impatiently, she taps her foot.

This is her least favorite part of her work. The sadness from leaving, the anticipation of what's to come. It's an uncomfortable position, one foot on either side of the threshold. There is only one place she never is excited to leave.

The wind changes and she smiles as she opens her umbrella.

One breeze closer to London. One breeze closer to home.


	4. Summer

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. _**summer.** _transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Summer_

At any time of year, if you search carefully, somewhere around Cherry Tree Lane, you can find Herbert Alfred outside.

In the fall, he's a chimney sweep, cheerily whistling as he carries his brushes and brooms to his next job. He makes most of his money then; after all, most people wealthy enough to own a chimney are wealthy to pay him, though he'll still do labor free for those who need it.

In the winter, he pulls a small cart, loaded down with hot chestnuts to warm customers' hands and bellies. He charges very little for his wares and gives them away for free nearly as often as not.

In the spring, he pulls out his one man band act. He doesn't make a lot of money nor does he want to. Music should be free.

But the summer… Oh, the summer is his favorite.

In the summer, he's a screever, bringing the pictures in his mind forth onto the pavement. There's something completely addicting about the process of creation, but, to be perfectly honest, that isn't his reason.

In the summer, his pictures come to life. In the summer, his pictures house the most beautiful woman in the world, for in the summer, Mary Poppins allows him to take her to tea in his imaginary world.

And on particularly muggy days, if there's a source of water nearby, it isn't too difficult to persuade her that no one will know or care if she removes her shoes and sticks her feet in the water.

And that image of Ms. Prim, Proper, Practically Perfect Poppins standing in a creek, her skirts hiked up to her knees, her stockings and shoes carefully laid out on the grass, her slim ankles and feet bare in crystal water, that image… well, he's never been able to capture that sort of beauty on paper or sidewalk, nor will he ever be able to.

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment and her smile is slow and sweet, just syrupy as the air. Then those bright blue eyes open and that upturned nose wrinkles as she grins at him, thrilled with this one moment of imperfection. And it's all he can do to keep breathing.

Bert can never wait for summer to roll around.


	5. Prepared

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. **_prepared._** knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Prepared_

Mary Poppins is always prepared for every eventuality. She carries her umbrella with her everywhere against the possibility of rain. Her carpetbag is packed with everything she might need: her cosmetics, all of her clothing, the furnishings for wherever her employer has her staying, just enough to make the room feel like home. She always packs spare sheets, just in case those provided are uncomfortable. She also has a camp bed, just in case there isn't a spare bed in the house. Of course, she always carries her bottle of medicine just in case of wet feet. Her tape measure is a must. She always has first aid supplies as well as a small flask of water for emergencies.

No one would ever call Mary Poppins unprepared.

So it comes as a shock that she is caught totally by surprise when, on her second Tuesday and after much unintelligible stammering, her best friend leans in and presses his lips to her, somehow seeming to pass a strong electrical current through her body. She jumps away and stares at him in silence until he starts stammering the most profuse apology she's ever heard. He looks completely distraught that he might have offended her and just so sweet and wonderful that spontaneously she leans forward and stops his lips with hers.

There is something beautiful, Mary thinks as his arms wrap around her, in being caught unprepared sometimes.


	6. Sunset

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. _**sunset.**_ mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Sunset_

The sun slowly sinks into the horizon, turning into sky into a watercolor painting. The lights of London begin to twinkle as people prepare for the approaching darkness. They dance, matching the celestial display above. On the darkest nights, from this spot on the roof, it's difficult to tell where the sky ends and London begins.

This roof, Bert is ready to swear, has the best view in the entire city. It's his favorite spot.

He sits with his feet dangling over the side of the roof, swinging them in time to the song he hums. And then he stops and smiles.

"Well, well," he says without turning around. "If it isn't Mary Poppins."

"Impressive," she comments, daintily sitting beside him.

"Not really," he admits. "You're th' only one 'oo knows about this place. 'aven't even told th' other sweeps about it."

"Oh… I'm, well, I'm flattered," she says quietly as her cheeks turn the same pink as the clouds in the sky.

"As well you should be!" he jokes. She chuckles, but the conversation dies down as they survey the scene.

"You know," she mentions after a moment, "I've traveled the world over, but I don't think I've ever found a more pleasant place than this rooftop."

"Maybe it's the sunset," he suggests, nodding his head out towards the darkening sky.

She turns to study his face carefully; her eyes trace over every line and wrinkle, the lashes on his eyes, everything. It may be his imagination, but he swears her eyes linger on his mouth. "Maybe it isn't only the sunset," she replies and he thinks he hears a tremor in her voice.

He takes hold of her hand and squeezes. They watch the sun until everything is dark and then he sweeps her up and into a slow waltz while he hums a tune under his breath.

Only when she must leave does he release her hand. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek with a gentle look in her eye and whispers, "Thank you for the sunset, Bert."

He catches her hand one more time and raises it to his lips, taking a deep breath before he replies, "Thank you for the sun, Mary."

Her smile is more dazzling than the very sun he professes she brings.


	7. Tremble

**This one got away from me a little, but I think I like it. It turned out fairly similar to something I read once, but I like to think I put my own spin on it. If I didn't, be assured that I wasn't intentionally stealing.**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. _**tremble.**_ sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Tremble_

If there were ever a more pleasant day, Bert simply can't think of it. He's just been lucky enough to spend a day with Mary unrushed because she isn't currently with a family, starting with a cup of tea midmorning and now a walk in the park. She even has taken hold of his arm, allowing him to escort her, walking at his rather languid pace rather than her usual brisk tempo.

He's about to comment on the day when the air is filled with a shrill scream of "CARUSO!"

Mary tenses up, pausing to turn an ear towards the voice. When there is another cry of "CARUSO!" Mary frowns and begins walking quickly away from him without a word. Bert trails along, hurrying to catch up to her.

They come to a small clearing and find a small, unpleasant looking woman dressed in staid, dark clothing, bellowing at two small children. "HOW DARE YOU? HOW _DARE _YOU LET MY LARK OUT? OH, YOU WAIT. YOU JUST WAIT." she screeches. The children cower, holding on to each other.

Bert looks at Mary and is amazed. Her usually calm and placid face has completely changed into one filled with fury. Her lips are drawn into a firm, thin line, her eyebrows knit together. Her eyes blaze. Her usually rosy cheeks are no longer rosy; they're flushed bright red with anger. You couldn't pay him to have her gaze set on him right now.

"EUPHEMIA ANDREW." Bert jumps. He's never heard that voice before, and he never would have thought Mary Poppins capable of such a terrifying tone.

The three other occupants of the clearing turn to look at her. "Mary Poppins," the other woman scoffs.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Andrew?" Mary's voice is polite, but everything about her is icy.

"You stay out of this, Mary Poppins," Miss Andrew sneers. "A mere chit of a girl and an impertinent one at that! Pity I didn't raise you; you might have turned out respectably."

Mary's eyes widen and her mouth all but disappears into that thin line. Bert can see her hands start to clench.

"Mary-" he says quietly, but that is a mistake. Miss Andrew turns his attention on him.

"And traipsing around unescorted with a chimney sweep! I knew you were a foolish girl, but now I see you're just a common tart waltzing about with common trash."

The sky darkens and clouds block the sun as the wind roils.

"Now, listen 'ere-" Bert starts to defend Mary but she stops him.

"Bert, take the children away," she orders softly without taking her eyes off Miss Andrew.

"Mary-"

"_Take_. _The_. _Children_."

He gulps. That is not a tone to be disobeyed. "Alright, you lot, come on with me." The children follow him obediently. He sends them to a play structure and sneaks back to the clearing.

Mary and Miss Andrew stand facing each other. Mary stands as still as a statue. "If there is one thing I cannot abide," she says, her voice no louder than her regular speaking voice, but there is something incredibly threatening in it, "it is bullies. And that is what you are, Euphemia Andrew. You are nothing more than an overgrown bully. You bully your charges into submission and you bully their parents. You've insulted me and you have insulted my friend with your insinuations. And _that_, I will not stand for. It has gone on long enough."

The wind whips the tendrils of Mary's hair around her head and lightning cracks nearby. Mary fairly trembles with rage. Miss Andrew has the good sense to look wary.

It suddenly dawns on Bert that he has absolutely no inkling of just how powerful Mary Poppins is.

Miss Andrew turns to leave and finds she is rooted to her spot. She opens her mouth and finds herself quite literally speechless. Again, lightning cracks, this time striking quite near Miss Andrew, who, by now, looks completely terrified.

"If you can't say anything kind, perhaps you shouldn't speak at all," Mary suggests.

Miss Andrew opens her mouth to protest before remembering her current conundrum.

Mary continues, "You will resign your current post. I shall take up care of your charges. _You _will endeavor to find some kindness in your shriveled heart. If I were you, Miss Andrew, I should take great pains to avoid crossing my path again," she advises. "I won't be so kind next time."

With a wave of her hand, Miss Andrew is free. "Go," Mary orders and the older woman takes off running.

Mary stares after her, not looking when Bert approaches from his hiding spot. "Mary?" he asks quietly. As if coming out of a trance, she looks at him and then stumbles. "'ey!" he exclaims and reaches out to steady her. She clings to him, breathing heavily. Bert can feel her whole body trembling as she exhales shakily. "Shhh, Mary, 's all right as rain now. Don't you worry," he says, holding her close. She rests her head on his chest and grips him tightly; he has a feeling that if he were to let go, she would just fall to the ground.

"I'm sorry. I lost my temper."

"I told you, 's all right."

"She was bullying the children. And she insulted you. I couldn't allow it."

Bert can't help but feel a little happy that she felt the need to defend him. "You did what you 'ad to," he shrugs casually, pretending her words haven't made him the happiest man alive.

"I suppose I should go introduce myself to the children," she sighs and nearly collapses again when she tries to take a step.

"Now you just wait a minute, Mary Poppins," he says, leading her to a bench, "those kids'll 'ave survived their 'ole lives without you an' they'll survive another ten minutes. You need a break. Sit down and get your strength back."

He pretends not to notice the slight tremble and tightening of the muscles in her stomach when he wraps an arm around her waist or the nervous tremble in her smile when she smiles to say thank you. And he ignores the nervous trembling of his own heart when she does. That is something for another day.


	8. Promise

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. _**promise.**_ simple. future.

* * *

_Promise_

Mary sighs, an uncharacteristic expression of discontent. It's just been one of those days. Leaving is always so unpleasant, especially when she knows that within a few months, the children she's grown to care so deeply for will have all but forgotten her existence.

"For such a small person, that sure was an awful big sigh!"

She turns and can't help but smile when she sees Bert leaning nonchalantly against a chimney. "I'm nearly as tall as you," she points out.

"Still an awful big sigh," he insists.

She plasters a careful smile on her face. "I'm just fine," she says. "How have you been?"

"Oh, fine, fine," he answers. "Can't complain. Especially now that you're back!"

She sidesteps that little moment. "And Uncle Albert?"

"Oh, 'e's just fine too. Misses you, I reckon, but that's nothing new."

"I'm glad to hear that you're both doing so well."

He studies her for a moment, looking to see how to play this next move. "Jane and Michael are doing well," he comments carefully. "You'd 'ardly recognize them."

"And why would I care about the Banks children any more than my other charges?" She tries to sound nonchalant but isn't very successful at all.

"You miss 'em, Mary Poppins. Don't think I 'aven't noticed."

Her next words are a whisper and she doesn't look at him when she says them. "They've forgotten me."

"But you 'aven't forgotten them," he answers. "An' besides, right now that isn't even true. They still ask about you. Even if they don't remember your face perfectly, they remember what you 'ad t' teach 'em. You touched their lives, Mary. You know it's true."

"Maybe so, but they will forget eventually. Everyone does."

Bert is quiet for a long time before he speaks. "I won't."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I won't forget you, Mary. I could never forget you."

"Bert-"

"Just… just let me say this. Please?"

"Very well then," she concedes, pretending that her stomach isn't aflutter with butterflies.

"I love you, Mary. I just do. I can't understand 'ow anyone could forget you; you're th' first thing I think of when I wake up and th' last thing I think of before I fall asleep. An' I would do anythin' t' keep you safe an' 'appy. It kills me t' see you look so melancholy. An' I'm not asking for anything, not even for you t' return my feelings, but I just thought you should know. Because I love you. An' I just think you should know that I'll never forget that. You'll never be forgotten, not as long as I still 'ave air in my lungs."

Her eyes glisten, a sheet of tears blurring her vision. "Promise?" she whispers.

He grabs her hand and squeezes. "Promise."

Impulsively, she leans forward and presses her lips to his. He takes his time kissing her, wrapping her up in a tight embrace and she can feel him start to grin.

She wants this moment to never end, this moment she previously thought impossible. His kiss says everything he didn't or couldn't. It's a promise of love, a promise of fidelity, and, most importantly, a promise of many, many tomorrows.

And she couldn't love him more.


	9. Move

**Okay, I'm going to just come right out and say it. I really like this one. I hope you do too!**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. _**move.**_ silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Move_

"Is that the last of it?" Mary asks, snapping shut her carpet bag.

Bert surveys the now empty room. "I think that's it… I just… need a moment."

Mary smiles fondly. "You're too sentimental, Bert. It's just an apartment."

"It's not th' apartment, Mary. A lot of important things 'appened 'ere an' I just need a minute t' remember 'em all. For example," he says, going to stand in the middle of the room, where there used to be a worn sofa. "Right 'ere, right on this very thought, I finally got up th' nerve t' tell you 'ow I feel about you!"

"And to ask me to tea," Mary adds helpfully.

"Exactly! An' here!" he exclaims, moving to the small kitchen. "Do you remember what 'appened 'ere?"

Mary rolls her eyes at his sentimentality but can't help her smile. "You kissed me for the first time," she remembers.

"See, Mary! We've 'ad some good times in this apartment! Important times!" He drags her to the front door. "An' you remember what 'appened 'ere?"

"You proposed to me," she answers, "and then wouldn't let me cross the threshold by myself for about three days after the wedding!"

He flicks his eyes to what used to be the one small bedroom. "Don't forget th' wedding night!"

Mary just scoffs and smacks him in the arm.

"_You're _my 'ome, Mary. Wherever you are, that's where 'ome is. But this place 'as been a part of me, a part of _us,_ for a good long time an' I just think we should pay it th' proper respects before we leave."

"You are _absurdly _sentimental," she sighs but there's no real annoyance in it.

"I've lived 'ere for nearing on ten years! 'umor me a bit."

"If you really feel so strongly about it, we don't _have _to move," she points out.

"Yes, we do," he disagrees. "You know it as well as I do. This place 'as been a lot of things over th' years, but there's one thing it'll never be."

"Oh, and what's that?" Mary asks, raising an eyebrow.

He grins and rests his hand on the very slight new swell of her stomach. "Big enough for three!"


	10. Simple

**This one's a little different. I hope you enjoy it!**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. _**simple.**_ future.

* * *

_Simple_

**Why do you always complicate things that are really quite simple?**

She had asked that question of him, but honestly, he could ask her the very same question. (At least that is how Bert sees it.)

After all, she's the one with all the rules and regulations (no contact- not even a handshake- while with her charges, they may only see each other in the company of her charges or on every second Tuesday, no longing glances, no lingering touches, and certainly no sappy farewells).

Bert isn't a complicated man. He's kind-hearted, gentle, and congenial. He'd never ask anything of Mary Poppins that she isn't fully prepared to do. But sometimes…

Sometimes, he just wants to wrap his arms around that slender waist and embrace her (with no intention of letting go).

Sometimes, he just wants to kiss those red lips (at the very least until they're chapped and swollen).

Sometimes, he just wants to take that delicate hand in his own (and not care who sees).

Because he loves her (in a way that words could never hope to fully describe).

And sometimes he just gets the overwhelming urge to _show _her (he never was any good at the telling part of show-and-tell).

It should be a simple equation (one man, one woman, one love). But when that woman is Mary Poppins, how could anything hope to be simple? (After all, the woman is about as simple as Daedalus' labyrinth.)

So he'll follow her rules and her regulations and he'll take her to tea every second Tuesday, because he loves her and respects her and he values her happiness far beyond his own life.

(Simple as that.)


	11. Diamond

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. _**diamond.**_ letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Diamond_

When Herbert Alfred was a small boy, he had been certain that nothing in the world could compare to the sight of Sunday dinner. Sunday meals had to be saved and scrimped for in a house with three boys and only two wage-earners, but his parents made sure that the thought of Sunday dinner could get their boys through a week's worth of bread and cabbage or even mulligan stew.

Then he got a little older and began to work all sorts of odd jobs. Meals became more regular, more substantial, so Sundays became a little less special. Walking around London, he began to take notice of the screevers. And at the age of twelve, suddenly nothing was better than the bright, cheery colors splashed across the sidewalks in beautiful designs.

He grew some more, became a screever. Though he still loved the colors on the sidewalk, it became his work. He became critical of those colors because that was the only way to improve. But one fateful day, a friend happened to invite him up on a roof. And from thereon out, he was smitten with the lights of London, the twinkling as the sun set.

So he added chimney sweep to his repertoire and enjoyed his view. Until one day, a silhouette appeared in the sky—a silhouette that, by all rights, really shouldn't be there. He trailed that silhouette until it comes to rest on a nearby rooftop, revealing that the silhouette was in fact a woman with dark hair and fair skin, a combination that he would kill to put down in chalk. She doesn't see him at first, too busy muttering darkly about shifting winds and shaking an old umbrella to take notice. She had looked up when he approached, introduced herself as Mary Poppins before going back to cursing her umbrella, and from that moment on, he was hooked by the strange woman.

From then on, easily the best sight in the world was that dark silhouette outlined in the sky as Mary Poppins found her way back to London. Whenever she was gone, things seemed slower, less important and beautiful. But everything changed as she approached; London always told him when she was going to return. And Bert was certain that nothing could ever beat the sight of the woman he loved returning home.

But with the passing of years and years, Bert now has found that there is one sight that beats Mary Poppins returning to London. It's the sight of Mary in the morning, still fast asleep, her breathing steady and her face peaceful. Her left hand rests gracefully on the pillow near her face and sunlight streams through the window, throwing off sparkles as it dances in the diamond resting easily there.

Bert wakes up early every morning just to catch a glimpse of that diamond, then wraps his arm around his wife's waist and goes back to sleep with a huge grin on his face.


	12. Letters

**Ugh, I know I'm late, but it's written! And it's long!**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond._** letters.**_ promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Letters_

Dear Mary,

You've gone and left again. I know it was time and that you can't ignore your duties, but I can't help but wish that you'd had more time with the Banks family. It was nice to have you back in London, nearby. The sun shines a little brighter when you're around. I hope this letter finds you well and that you're all settled in with your latest family. Try not to turn their lives upside down _too _much. Unless they need it, of course.

Send me a note saying that you've arrived there safely, will you? Otherwise I'll spend the next few weeks worrying.

Bert

. . .

_Dear Bert,_

_Yes, I've gone and left again, I'm afraid. I can't say that I was entirely pleased, though the Banks had no need of me or my talents anymore. It's unfortunate that the time came so swiftly, but I can't be displeased with the results. They'll have a happy life and that is what I strive for. However, I will admit that I was disappointed that I was unable to spend more time with them and with you. If you'll allow me a moment of sentimentality, I really must thank you for your hospitality and kindness._

_I assure you that I am safely installed in my latest household. They are a handful to say the least, but I'll see them straightened out. Please check in on Uncle Albert for me; though I find that Russia agrees with me, it is too far to be making trips to London._

_Fondly,  
Mary Poppins_

. . .

Dear Mary,

I looked in on Uncle Albert for you. He's looking fine. Hasn't had an "episode" since you were here. But that's hardly surprising. It's hard to find things funny when you're so far away.

Things here are just as they always are. I see Jane and Michael now and again. They let slip that Mrs. Banks has a third one on the way, but we're not supposed to know that, so keep it under your hat.

I can't wait to hear all about your latest family and Russia. You know, I just realized that Russia is one place we've never gone to; you'll have to allow me to take you to tea and paint me a picture with words so I can put it down on paper—or sidewalk as it were. Then you can show me just what is so agreeable to you. It seems cold to me. But they've got you now, so perhaps it's started to warm up.

Yours Truly,  
Bert

. . .

_Dear Bert,_

_I was glad to hear that you're doing well, but you really must cheer up. I'll be back in London soon enough. I must confess that I've become a bit homesick and not just for London. I can't seem to shake the feeling that I am missing something and I've realized that I've become homesick for the people of London. For Uncle Albert, for the Banks and Admiral Boom, for you. While I am certainly enjoying myself, I look forward to returning home. I haven't had a proper cup of tea in ages, though I should confess that even in London a cup of tea doesn't seem quite proper unless you are sitting across the table from me._

_Given the affection between Mr. and Mrs. Banks, I can hardly pretend to be surprised at your news. When the time comes, do congratulate them for me._

_Affectionately,  
Mary Poppins_

. . .

Mary,

I just got your note and you'll never guess where I'm sitting down to write you back. I'm here in the Banks' nursery. Jane and Michael are sketching. I've been hired on as their art tutor. Not a bad way to make a bob. Certainly better than cleaning gutters or sweeping the street!

I know you've only been gone for a few weeks, but it feels as if it's been a year or more. I feel as if some of the details of your face are slipping from my mind. Would you classify your hair more as chestnut or raven? (That was a joke and a bad one at that.) The fact of the matter is that I miss you and I'm man enough to admit to it. I hope you're enjoying yourself and I hope Russia is treating you right, but I'm a selfish man and I want you home with me.

Love,  
Bert

. . .

_Dearest Bert,_

_I am loath to admit how long it took me to gather the courage to write this letter. I don't think I've ever done anything quite so bold in my entire life._

_I was pleasantly surprised to hear of your new position. I am so proud of you, Bert. I imagine that you make a wonderful teacher and I envy your pupils._

_I am enjoying myself and Russia has treated me well thus far. The family is doing fine and soon won't be in need of my services. I'll be home before you know it._

_But now I've come to the part of the letter that I've spent hours agonizing over. Even now, my hands are shaking at the thought of asking you this question. But I've screwed my courage to the sticking place and I simply need to know. What precisely do you mean when you say that you want me home with you? What did you mean with your salutation? Why choose the word "love?"_

_Yours,  
Mary_

. . .

Mary,

It's my turn to "screw my courage to the sticking place" as you put it.

I love you. Simple as that. I love you and I have since the day I met you. I love you more than I thought possible and with every day I fall more in love with you.

I understand if you don't return my feelings. I would never have revealed myself if you hadn't asked right out. But the fact of the matter is that I love you and that simply won't change. I just hope you don't hate me for it; I would never do anything to endanger our friendship.

Bert

. . .

_Bert,_

_My task here is complete- I'm coming home._

_I love you too._

_Your Mary_


	13. Future

**Again, late. But I'm busy!**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. **_future._**

* * *

_Future_

There are many things Mary Poppins has been promised in the past. She's been promised wages, time off, and various bonuses. She's been promised early bedtimes, easy suppers, and good behavior. She always ensures that those promises are made good on.

But the one thing she's never been sure of is her future. She knows that she will continue to nanny, that there will always be families that need her. But she doesn't know where they will be or what they will be like. When she approaches the end of her time with a family, she doesn't know where she'll be sleeping from day to day. It's not something people think about but she faces a lot of uncertainty in her life.

She's not frightened of it and she has everything under control, but sometimes it can be daunting. Right now is one of those times.

Upon seeing the pensive look on her face, her companion does the unthinkable.

Herbert Alfred takes Mary Poppins' hand in his and does something no one else has ever dared do. He promises her the future.


	14. Formal

**I imagine this happens early in their friendship. Far before the movie.**

**As always I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame.**_ formal._** companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Formal_

"Bert, I'm afraid I have a favor to ask of you," Mary says suddenly as they sit on a rooftop. The sweeps have just left, but the pair lingers, not quite ready to end the night when the weather is so pleasant and the stars so bright.

"Anythin', Mary, you know that," Bert smiles, nudging her gently with his elbow to chastise her for not flat out asking.

"Well, you see," Mary starts, suddenly quite grateful for the cover of night that hides the color rushing to her cheeks. "My current employers are hosting a party and they've asked me to bring an escort. You are free, of course, to turn me down."

"I wouldn't do that!" he insists. "I'd do anythin' for you, Mary!"

"It could be… fun," she says, sounding uncertain. "I'll wear a dress I can't breathe in and I know of several other people going. At the very least, perhaps you can make some contacts; after all, you are the best chimney sweep in town-"

"Alright! You've convinced me!" he laughs. "If you're there, the company can't fail to be pleasant."

"And, of course, there will be dancing," she continues.

Bert blanches. "Per'aps I should 'ave made m'self clearer," he says, clearing his throat. "When I said _anythin'_, what I meant was anythin' but dancing."

There's a flicker of offense on her face, but she quickly hides it with a teasing smile. "Oh, I see how it is. You simply don't want to dance with me!"

"No, it isn't that!" he exclaims. "It's just… I've just remembered that I can't go, that's all."

"You're lying to me."

"Well, it's just…" He trails off and rubs the back of his neck.

"Bert?"

After a moment his confession comes tumbling out of his mouth in a rush of words. "I can't dance."

"Don't be preposterous!" she orders, "I watched you dancing not an hour ago!"

"But not properly! That was just easy, sweeper stuff. Not th' stuff of 'igh society!"

"But… I _need _you there with me," Mary admits in little more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry, Mary."

She heaves a sigh and her jaw sets. Quickly she climbs to her feet. "Stand up," she demands.

"Er… what?"

"Stand up," she repeats, holding out her hands to help him up. "I'm going to teach you."

"What?"

"If you insist on being so self-conscious, I'll teach you to dance. Now stand up. And there will be consequences if I have to repeat myself a fourth time."

He does as he's told and warily approaches her.

"Now, we'll start with a simple waltz. First, hand placement." She shows him how to properly hold her right hand. Then she steps closer, takes his right hand in her left and places it in the middle of her back, resting her arm on his. Bert gulps. "You should take care where you place your hand; too high is awkward, too low is inappropriate. The shoulder blade is a good guide. Here," she twists a little and takes his hand again, pressing it to her back, "Can you feel my shoulder blade?"

He nods mutely.

"Your hand should be a little farther center, but at about this height. Try to have it feel as natural as possible. Now, feet."

She shows him how his feet should move, lets him hear the beat. She leads at first, dancing the woman's part but having him get a feel for the steps. "_One_, two, three, _one_, two three," she counts quietly for him until he gets it down.

His grip on her softens and her steps become less forceful as he starts to take the lead. He takes up the count and she smiles as she lets him. His concentration is down at his feet and not on her as he tries his best to get it right.

Slowly, he doesn't need to count and he becomes more confident. "Bert," she says, "Look up. Focus on me. _One_, two, three, _one, _two, three…"

He looks up and loses himself in her gentle, proud gaze. They're standing close enough that he can feel the rise and fall of her chest, how it's suddenly increased in speed. Her eyes search his for something and her lips are slightly parted. No one is dancing now.

Her eyes flick down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. He searches desperately for something to say, but words escape him.

Suddenly, she coughs and quickly disentangles her body from his arms. "So you'll come on Friday?" she asks, her voice loud and proper.

He nods but doesn't say anything.

She smiles then disappears, quicker than a skittish rabbit.

He has no idea what just happened, but he has a feeling it is significant. Composing himself, he heads for home. For a moment there, he had thought… Well, no matter.

But still, a small portion of his mind whispers, _anything _can happen.


	15. BONUS!

**Bonus drabble! Mostly just because I watched 1776 today and I'm a little obsessed. And at one point Thomas Jefferson writes a note to John Adams saying that TJ will be taking his wife back to bed and not writing the Declaration of Independence. And it is a wonderful moment.**

**Also, it is my friend Allen's birthday. And it will be my Julie's birthday tomorrow. So... BONUS DRABBLE!**

**I own nothing. **

* * *

The doorbell rings. Mary groans, rolling her eyes as she falls back on the pillows. "I hate that bell," she sulks.

Bert laughs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "When did you become so opinionated on doorbells?"

She gives him an annoyed look. "Since they started interrupting the first extended period of time I've had with my husband in a month!"

He can't help but smile. "Just a doorbell, love."

"A _month_, Bert."

He pulls her close and she nestles into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. "Maybe if we're quiet," he suggests, "they'll go away!"

They sit in silence for a moment, listening. But just when they think they're in the clear, the doorbell rings again and a shrill "YOOHOO!" rings out.

Mary sighs. "I should answer that."

"Or," he says, brushing his lips along her jaw, "you could stay 'ere."

The doorbell rings again and he gets a very pointed look. "Alright, alright!" he exclaims. "Go on!"

She climbs out of bed and wraps her dressing gown around her before going to the door. She takes a deep breath before plastering a smile on her face and opening the door.

"Oh, hello, my dear!"

"Mrs. Peterson," she smiles, greeting their neighbor. "How are you this morning?"

The older woman looks her over. "Oh! I do hope I didn't wake you… though it _is _a bit late to be sleeping, don't you think?"

"Please don't think anything of it. I wasn't sleeping, we're just off to a slow start today. You see, it's my husband's first day off in a month."

"Ah, I see…" The wheels in Mrs. Peterson's head are clearly turning and semi-scandalized.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Mary asks pointedly, readjusting her dressing gown to cover even more of her.

"Well, you see, I'm having several people over for tea today, but I've just realized that I have no sugar in my house and no time to run to the grocer! I was just wondering if perhaps I could borrow some of yours."

Mary takes a quick mental stock of the kitchen. "I believe we have plenty, how much did you need?"

"Oh, a couple cups at most."

"Mary, you get rid of… Oh, 'ello, Mrs. Peterson!" Bert says. "Mary, did you get rid of that… frog in your throat that I know was bugging you?"

Mary has to laugh. "Yes. Mrs. Peterson just stopped by to borrow some sugar. Will you fetch it? Two or three cups should suffice."

"You've got it, love."

Bert goes into the kitchen and gets the desired object. When he returns, he finds Mrs. Peterson blabbering on and on about her recent trip to India with her husband. Studying Mary's face, he can tell she's not interested at all, but doing her best to appear as if that isn't the case. She has one of the most convincing faces he's seen, but he's known her so long that he can easily see through it. She keeps trying to use small breaks in the barrage of words to steer their neighbor out the door, but it isn't working.

"'ere, Mrs. Peterson," he says loudly. "Will this be enough?"

"Oh certainly!" she exclaims, hardly glancing at the container. "I was just telling your wife about my latest trip to India. Oh, you would have loved it there!"

"I'm sure I would 'ave."

"We'll have to stop by one day so that we can hear all about it," Mary says politely, stepping forward a little so that Mrs. Peterson is forced just a little farther out the door.

This goes on for nearly ten minutes. Bert feels himself getting annoyed and can see Mary getting frustrated. Even the great Mary Poppins sometimes lets her composure slip.

"Mrs. Peterson, I hate to cut this visit short, but we were actually in the middle of something," Mary almost interrupts.

"Of course, don't let me keep you! But, oh, I simply must tell you…"

After another five minutes being regaled by stories of children's marriages, Bert reaches his boiling point. He leaves the room to work a bit on a clock he's tinkering with and comes back nearly _another _ten minutes later. She's _still _yammering on. Mary is too polite to say anything, but he is not. "Alright, Mrs. Peterson," he says, approaching the door and the pair of women. "It's been lovely talking with you, but I'm afraid we'll 'ave to say goodbye."

"Oh, you can't chat for another five minutes?"

"'fraid not," he shrugs and surprises everyone by literally sweeping Mary off her feet and into his arms. "Y'see, it's my first day off in over a month. An' I am taking my wife back t' bed. G'bye, Mrs. Peterson."

And with that he uses his foot to close the door in her face.

"Bert!" Mary exclaims, a look of pure shock on her face.

"What? I got rid of 'er, didn't I? Or did you _want _t' 'ear 'er entire life story?"

"I have to _see_ her! I have to talk to her!" Mary cries.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "But it worked! An' it wasn't as if I was lying…"

"Oh, you think you're coming near me after that stunt you just pulled? Put me down!"

"Mary…"

"Put me _down_, Bert."

"I just thought you could use th' 'elp. You looked so… bored. An' I know you're too polite for your own good. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

She glares at him.

"Please?"

Mary heaves a huge sigh, but stops struggling against his embrace. "You are just lucky it's been a month."


	16. Thousand

**I realize that I missed yesterday, but I had work and then OLYMPICS. And it was just important to me that I watch. So I did and I didn't write. But I'll be playing catch-up either today or tomorrow and there will be a second drabble!**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. _**thousand.**_ outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Thousand_

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

They say actions speak louder than words.

But there is really no saying for when the man you love has gone and proposed to another woman… particularly when you were the one who pushed him to it.

Mary tosses restlessly, unable to get comfortable in her small, twin bed. _Small, _spinster _bed, _she thinks bitterly, punching her pillow.

Why should she care if Bert is getting married? She was the one who had encouraged him to divert his attentions away from her, to find someone else able to give him everything that she knows he wants. She simply shouldn't care. In fact, she should be happy.

Of course, she isn't jealous. She just is… concerned about losing her best friend. But she isn't jealous, because she doesn't want to give him a home and children, to be his wife. Of course she doesn't…

Ten minutes later, a fuming Mary Poppins is fully dressed and stalking the streets of London towards her best friend's flat. And before she knows it, she is standing outside his door and rapping loudly with her knuckles. Bert appears, looking absolutely confused, his eyes blurred from being woken up.

"Mary?" he says.

"Don't marry her," Mary bursts out.

"What?"

"Don't… please don't marry her," she begs, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"I'm not following. Maybe it's th' fact that it's after midnight but I don't get it."

Surprising everyone involved, she crushes her lips to his in a hard, fiery kiss. Pulling away, she looks positively mortified, beginning to remember herself. "I am… I apologize. That was… It was a mistake to come here," she stammers before turning on her heel and flat-out running away.

Bert stares after her in shock. He has absolutely no idea what she was trying to say.

But sometimes a kiss is worth a thousand words. His engagement is broken off within the week.


	17. Winter

**I am so sorry that I missed yesterday. Still playing catch up.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. **_winter._** diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Winter_

Mary Poppins is fed up with the weather, particularly right now with the wind attempting to blow her hat off her head. It has been the coldest winter she can remember and the wind shows no signs of sending her anywhere warmer.

She has a feeling that Bert is getting a bit fed up with her, though of course, he'd never say so. But she feels entirely too unpleasant and has a bad habit of taking it out on him.

"Mary!" She's forced out of her reverie by a cheery greeting. Looking around, she finds Bert, hard at work on a dry patch of sidewalk. So far, he's only got a single drawing of a tropical beach. Most importantly, it looks warm. "Mary, do you 'ave a minute?"

"Hello, Bert. I'm in no rush. Why?"

He grabs her hand and tugs her into the drawing. "Figured you could use some warming up."

Mary blushes when she looks down to see that they're both wearing bathing costumes. Her eyes are drawn to his toned arms and broad chest and her cheeks become warm, so she looks away. Bert is doing the same, being careful not to stare too long at her.

They walk along the beach, just talking. Though it's actually quite hot here, Mary barely dips her feet in the water and makes a comment about how lucky Bert is to not have to worry about his hair or anything. And with that, he scoops her up into his arms and starts walking out into the chalk ocean. Mary kicks her legs and hits him, but he just laughs.

"Bert, stop it!" she cries, trying not to laugh.

"I don't think I want t'!" he chuckles, definitely feeling far bolder than usual.

"Bert!"

"Alright," he agrees and unceremoniously dumps her into the sea. She comes up sputtering and he briefly wonders if he might have crossed a line.

"I sincerely hope you have a plan," she says placidly. "Because I assure you that won't go without retribution."

He laughs nervously, then takes off running for shallower water. She follows, her heart pounding, her hair falling out of its pins and streaming behind her; she feels more carefree than she has in years. All thoughts of her magic fly straight out of her hair and the only thing in her head is a determination to catch him. He's always just one step out of reach though. Finally, she completely forgets herself, lunges forward and all but tackles him.

They topple into the water, a mass of flailing limbs and laughter as they grapple to gain control of the situation. Everything is dizzy and confused but somehow, in that confusion someone's lips find their way to the other's and suddenly their friendly wrestling match turns into a passionate kiss. His arms make their way around her waist and her hands begin to explore the muscles that had so fascinated her earlier.

They are so distracted by each other that they don't notice the rainclouds roll in. Sea spray turns to raindrops and the scenery melts away, but they can't be bothered to notice.

In fact, they can't be bothered to notice until the constable comes up, his cheeks a bit ruddy. "Alright, you two, break it up!" he exclaims.

Mary immediately springs away from Bert and blushes deep red. Bert scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

The constable wanders away muttering, "What do they think this is? Some sort of lovers' lane? In the middle of the day!"

"That can't happen again," Mary says, her voice a flat monotone.

"Mary-" Bert tries to apologize.

"We're going to have to be much more discreet."

Bert's smile is so warm and bright that Mary is surprised it doesn't start melting the snow nearby. And Mary can no longer feel the cold.


	18. Look

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. **_look._** summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Look_

At this point, Mary Poppins has known her best friend for so long that they can communicate without using words. Their looks say more than enough.

She knows that a slight inclination of his head always means that he wants her to look at something. If the right corner of his mouth tugs up, he's amused. The left, he's doing his best not to say something. An eyebrow raise conveys skepticism. A squint means confusion.

She has his every facial movement memorized. In fact, she just has his face memorized. But lately she's been noticing a certain look. One that isn't in her extensive knowledge of his face. She can only catch it at very rare moments, when she catches him gazing at her before he can turn away.

His customary grin isn't there. The muscles in his face are relaxed and his mouth hangs open slightly. His eyes wander over her face, almost as if he's trying to memorize her face in the same way she has his memorized. It's only momentary and it's gone within milliseconds when he realizes she's looking back at him.

It isn't a look she knows. But she hopes he never stops.


	19. Snowflake

**This one is inspired by "Christmas Lights" by Coldplay. Gorgeous song, really.**

**I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. **_snowflake._** haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Snowflake_

Bert looks hopefully up at the sky, but it's still gray and not a single snowflake to make up for it. Even worse, there's no silhouette up in the sky.

It's not Christmas unless it's snowing. More importantly, it's not Christmas unless Mary Poppins is in London. He misses her terribly.

They'd fought before she left the last night. Not one of their little spats either. It was the biggest fight he could remember having with her. She had stormed out of his flat and he hadn't seen her since. That had been at the end of November. It's now Christmas day and there's not a bit of snow in London.

And he misses her. More than anything, he misses her. He'd do anything to have her back, even if for only a few hours. Just so he can apologize. Even if the thing they were fighting over was something that he wasn't really at fault for. Since when could a man be faulted for what he feels? He hadn't even told her; she had figured it out and confronted him. And yet _he_ still wants to apologize.

It's beginning to get dark and the street lights start to glow. Bert wraps his scarf tighter around his neck and hunches over, trying to conserve heat. There may not be snow, but it is still freezing.

He should just get over her. Let her go, never see her again. It would spare him a lot of pain. But he loves her. He loves her so much that the idea of never seeing her again physically hurts.

He walks to a square where a giant Christmas tree has been decorated. Small electric lights glow in the branches. He stops to stare. Mary loves Christmas trees; every year they decorate a small one in his flat and bicker over how much tinsel is appropriate. If he were going to find her anywhere in this city today…

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He looks up and sees the very woman of his thoughts standing a few feet away, umbrella grasped tightly in hand. "Mary! You're 'ere!"

"Of course I am," she frowns. "It's Christmas, is it not?"

"It is, but I thought… what with th' way we ended things…"

"We had a fight, Bert. We have not _ended _anything."

"Are you still mad at me?"

She shyly glances down and her voice is barely a whisper. "I missed you."

"I missed you more," he says playfully but he can't keep the earnest truth from his voice.

Slowly she approaches him, moving in halting, unsure steps. "Bert, I-"

"Mary, it's-" He tries to reassure her that there's no animosity between them, but he's cut off when she suddenly presses her lips to his.

"Happy Christmas, Bert," she says quietly after a moment. He just laughs and pulls her into his arms…

He's pulled out of his reverie by a dainty cough.

Whirling around, he turns to see Mary Poppins dressed to the nines in a bright emerald coat, her umbrella held close to her side, under her crossed arms. Shaking off the remnants of his daydream, he exclaims, "Mary!"

"Hello." Her greeting is only a little warmer than the temperature.

"You're still mad," he observes, his shoulders slumping.

"Yes."

"But you came anyway."

"It's Christmas, Bert. No one deserves to spend the holidays alone."

"Mary, I-"

"Don't."

"Alright," he agrees with a sigh. "I won't. But I did miss you."

"Not another word or I'll leave."

"Welcome back t' London, Mary."

Her face softens. "Thank you."

"It's nice t' 'ave you back, even if it's just for th' day."

"Where is your coat, Herbert Alfred? It's far too cold to be out without one!" she scolds. He just grins sheepishly. He forgot it at home.

She sighs. "Let's get you home before you catch your death."

"Still a tree to be decorated too," he comments.

Her eyes light up as she smiles. "You waited."

"Of course I did. I always 'ave, always will."

He's not just talking about Christmas decorations.

"I appreciate it. I do hope you know that."

As she takes his arm, he grins. The first snowflake of the season falls and catches in Mary's hair.


	20. Transformation

**I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. **_transformation._ **tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Transformation_

When Mary Poppins had first met Herbert Alfred, his manners had been appalling. His clothes were in shoddy state at best. Well, taking care of three younger siblings left him very little time personal grooming. His parents had died before they had taught him about what fork to use during which course and that too loud of laughter at the table was considered rude. It really wasn't his fault.

Mary had been a civilizing influence on both him and his siblings. She had swept in and easily taken up a sort of motherly role, making sure hands were washed before sitting down at the table and that bedtimes were strictly observed. It was nice for him to have a sort of partner; he'd been playing father alone for far too long. She was a godsend and funny as hell when she chose to be. She had a supremely dry, sarcastic sense of humor, often only noticeable in her comments made under her breath, but no one could make him laugh harder than her.

She had transformed him. She'd taken a tired, overworked man and turned him into one who could laugh and enjoy life. Yes, there was no doubt in his mind that she had changed him and his family.

But looking across the room at her reading a story to his youngest sister, when she looks up and smiles happily at him, content with this easy sort of domesticity, a thought comes to him. She's long since taken her coat off and even the fabric that once was a crisp bow is now untied and hangs limply from her neck. She's a far cry from the buttoned-up, prim, proper Mary Poppins who had walked through the door on that first day and he can't help but wonder if maybe they've changed her too.


	21. Haze

**Oh, hey, I'm on tumblr now if you feel like you want to check it out: darling-pretty . tumblr .com. Just take out the spaces :)**

**I own nothing. **

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. _**haze.**_ flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Haze_

Everything seems foggy. Foggy and disoriented.

Bert grins, twirling in the ruined chalk drawings. Rain pours down, sending dyed chalk-water sloshing around the sidewalk and into the gutters. His hair is soaked but he couldn't possibly care less.

Thunder claps overhead and he vaguely wonders if Mary made it home alright. He shakes the thought from his head. It's Mary. Even if she were caught out in the storm, the rain would never dare fall on Mary Poppins' head.

He grins just thinking about her. Mary. His Mary.

Yes, _his_.

Well, inasmuch as Mary would allow herself to be anyone's, and he is most certainly belongs just as much to her.

She had kissed him. Reached right up in the middle of his chalk drawing and pulled his lips to hers. Not a word of warning, not even a look. Just a sudden gesture and suddenly he was in heaven.

Mary Poppins had kissed him. She hadn't run away after, just allowed him to grin like an idiot and wrap an arm around her waist, though she had shrugged out of his grip the moment they had approached the children.

But that didn't matter. It doesn't. Mary Poppins kissed him.

He spends the rest of the day and a good chunk of the next in a haze of happiness.


	22. Flame

**Oh, hey, I'm on tumblr now if you feel like you want to check it out: darling-pretty . tumblr .com. Just take out the spaces :)**

**Sorry this took so long! I'm going to try to write at least one more today.**

**I own nothing. **

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze._ **flame.**_ formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Flame_

"It looks like the entire street is out," Mary comments as she peers out the window of Bert's flat.

"Alright then, so there's somethin' faulty out there," Bert thinks aloud. "Not in 'ere. Which means I can't fix it, so we'll just have t' make do."

"It certainly would have been easier had the power gone out an hour ago," she sighs. "Ow!"

"Sorry!" he exclaims. "Are you alright?"

"You stepped on my foot, but I'll be fine. Really."

"Sorry! Just give me a moment an'…" There's the sound of a match striking and suddenly there's light in the small room. Bert grins, holding up a candle. "Keep 'em around for occasions such as this."

"Always prepared," Mary laughs.

"That's me!" he exclaims, placing the candle into a holder.

"Who knew you'd come in so handy?" Mary comments, patting his arm.

He stiffens slightly under her touch. "Cold in 'ere," he mentions, trying to play it off like a shiver.

"I don't suppose you have firewood?" she asks. "We could start a fire in the fireplace."

"No, just the candles."

"So you're _not _always prepared!" she exclaims with a laugh.

"No need t' be rude!" he replies, faking offense. "I just 'aven't been out t' get any lately!"

"Well, at least if we freeze to death, I'll know who to blame."

"Oh, look 'oo's being melodramatic," he teases.

"You're the one who's cold!"

"No one said anythin' about freezing to death until _you _brought it up!" he points out with a chuckle. Then he gently grabs her arm and tugs her close. "Come 'ere. Can't 'ave th' great Mary Poppins freezin' t' death now can we?"

Her breath comes in short bursts as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. The candle's flame flickers as she turns her face upwards to study him. "Bert-"

"Mary-"

They speak in unison and both laugh in embarrassment. "You first," he insists.

"No, you," she responds.

"No, _you_!" he chuckles.

"I just… I…"

"Mary?"

She has never been so thankful for anything in her entire life as she is for the dim lighting that hides her bright blush. "It may just be the candlelight… but…"

"But?"

She studies her hands with an intensity usually reserved for misbehaving children. When she speaks, it's in little more than a whisper. "I… It _must _just be the candlelight but I just have the urge to-"

Instead of finishing the sentence, she twists in his arms and kisses him softly. He's taken by surprise but within seconds has processed what is happening and deepened the kiss.

The power comes on a few moments later, but neither tries to turn the light on, preferring to ignore the rest of the world as the candle's flame burns brightly on into the night.


	23. Knowledge

**Oh, hey, I'm on tumblr now if you feel like you want to check it out: darling-pretty . tumblr .com. Just take out the spaces :)**

**I actually got another one written! You should be proud of me.**

**I own nothing. **

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. **_knowledge._ **denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Knowledge_

It's a simple fact of life; Bert always knows when Mary leaves. He can be halfway across the city and asleep, but he will know. It's not a choice. The moment the wind starts to blow, he can feel it. He can feel the firm, insistent tug that pulls her away from him. And shortly after that, a dull ache that originates from somewhere around his heart. It isn't too terribly painful, just horribly consistent and unceasing. It won't subside until she's back on London soil.

He'll rush outside the moment he feels the tug, hoping to catch a glance of her silhouette in the sky. Hoping against hope that maybe she'll turn around and he can catch a glimpse of that perfect face one more time before she goes. She nearly always does.

And then she's gone, off to somewhere he can't follow. He'll go back into his flat, try to catch a few hours of sleep. He won't succeed, so he'll sit on the roof instead, studying the stars. Hoping that maybe, just maybe she's looking up and seeing the same thing. The thought makes the ache in his chest a little more bearable.

He'll miss her terribly the whole time she's gone. He'll adjust to the constant ache, work around it so he can smile at customers and passersby. He'll hide just how much he misses her behind a bright smile that has been so practiced there's only one person in this world who could call it disingenuous, but she's not near enough to see it.

The knowledge that she's gone creates a void in his life, a miserable, gaping hole that makes life difficult. And there are some days he wishes he didn't know.

But he forgets that in an instant, because _everything _becomes worth it the moment he knows that Mary Poppins is returning to London.


	24. Companion

**Oh, hey, I'm on tumblr now if you feel like you want to check it out: darling-pretty . tumblr .com. Just take out the spaces :)**

**I own nothing. **

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. **_companion._** move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Companion_

Mary considers Bert while he puts the finishing touches on a chalk drawing for them to jump into.

How had he managed to work his way into her heart and mind so quickly? She simply hasn't known him all that long, only a few years at most! And yet already she can't imagine a life without him. He's become a fixture for her. She looks forward to hearing his laugh, to seeing his smile, even the line of his shoulders. She just looks forward to _him_.

But, of course, that is ridiculous. She is nearing on 90 years old (though of course, she doesn't look a day over 25 and hasn't ever looked so) and he's just barely closer to 40 than 30, but getting older every second. It's a simple equation, one that rules her every thought and action. He is mortal, she is not—and one day she will have to be without him.

Unless, of course… But, no, that simply isn't an option. She must allow him to go in the way of her previous companions—let him find someone to settle down with, have children, and fade happily into oblivion—while she soldiers on.

But it hadn't been so difficult with them. It had been rather easy to watch them find happiness with others—she had been _thrilled _to see their happiness. The thought of anyone else touching them hadn't so thoroughly enraged her that she felt sick to her stomach.

That _shouldn't _happen. It has never happened in all her 80-odd years. Never ahs she felt so possessive of a friend. But the thought of Bert leaving her for a normal life fills her with dread. What is she going to do without him?

She's nearly tempted to do something drastic, but she can't. She simply can't ask him to give up everything she knows he must want—the chance at a happy marriage, to have children, to have everything she is incapable of giving him. She can't ask him to forfeit that, not for her.

A kiss. That's all it would take to keep him with her forever. Just one little kiss. A kiss given freely, accepted willingly. Simple as that.

But she can't ask him for forever. Not when he can't properly fathom what that means. She already knows what his answer would be if she were to ask. She can see it in the way he looks at her and she is careful to distance herself quickly whenever she catches him looking at her as if she's his world. Admittedly, he's a grown man and she should allow him to make his own decision, but she knows he'll make the wrong one and she won't allow him to ruin his life.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She looks up and smiles at the charming man on the sidewalk. "Oh, simply that I wish this moment could last forever."

He grins. "You an' me, 'ere, forever? It's a crazy thought, but I can't say I mind it at all."

She gives a weak little laugh. "Crazy indeed."

He reaches for her hand, but she pulls away and he frowns. "Mary? What's wrong?"

"I'll just… I'll miss you."

He gives a deep belly laugh. "I'm not going anywhere, love. I won't leave you."

"Yes, you will. Everyone does."

"No, I won't," he insists.

The corners of Mary's mouth turn up but there is nothing but sadness behind her smile. "If only that were true."

"Mary, if there were any way I could prove it t' you, I would." He takes her hand and kisses it. "I just… I really care about you an' I wish you would know I'm 'ere t' stay for good."

Her breath catches in her throat. If she could summon the courage, he could be hers for good. She could do it. She could so easily ask him to stay with her, to be her eternal companion.

Shaking her head, she gets up and looks at his drawing, exclaiming over its beauty. She can't ask him, not today.


	25. Outside

**Oh, hey, I'm on tumblr now if you feel like you want to check it out: darling-pretty . tumblr .com. Just take out the spaces :)**

**Sorry this one isn't so great and I missed a couple days. I am kind of exhausted, but here I am!**

**I own nothing. **

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. _**outside.**_ winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Outside_

The Great Exception. How she hates that name sometimes. Once she had taken great pride in her status as an exception. She had loved it.

But now it just reminds her. Reminds her of just how outside of everything she is, how lonely she is. She is always in the middle of families, yet not actually a part of them. She can't have her own.

She sits on the roof of her most recent family's house. They're on an outing and she knows she has to leave. Her carpetbag sits next to her, as does her umbrella. The wind has shifted. But she's not ready to go.

For some reason, this family has made her question everything she knows about herself. It's put cracks in her practical perfection. She's never wanted anything she couldn't have before; she's always been perfectly content with everything in her life. But now she's thinking. Perhaps it was the addition of a new baby while she was in the house, or seeing just how in love the mother and father were with him. Perhaps it was just seeing the protective way the mother held her new son to her chest. Whatever it was, Mary suddenly wants it. She wants a family, to be a mother. And she knows who she wants all of that with.

But it doesn't matter, because Mary Poppins isn't normal. She is quite outside the normal human experience. Inextricably woven into the human experience, but not actually within it.

She doesn't cry because Mary Poppins doesn't cry, but her throat closes slightly.

"Mary?"

She looks up and sees Bert leaning against his brooms. He frowns. "Mary, are you crying?"

She shakes her head, choking on a small sob. But still no tears. Quickly he sits down next to her and pulls her into his arms. "What's wrong? Are you alright? Did someone 'urt you?"

She shakes her head again and lays her head on his shoulder. "No, nothing of that nature. I just… I'm happy to see you, that's all."

He frowns but doesn't push it. He's just thankful to have her in his arms.

"Bert?" she says quietly after awhile.

"Mmhmm?"

"Thank you for being here."

He brushes his lips gently against her temple. "Of course, Mary. Nowhere else I'd rather be. We're family, you an' me."

She looks up, a look of surprise on her face. "What?" he asks when he sees her face.

She kisses him on the cheek. "You just have this uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing."

He turns bright red but pretends he doesn't. "It's a gift," he says, trying to sound flippant.

She laughs and lets him keep his arms around her. Even if only for a little while, with him next to her, she feels like she might not be so outside of everything after all.


	26. Silver

**This is a bit hurried, but I hope you like it!**

**I own nothing. **

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. **_silver._** prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Silver_

Bert shifts uncomfortably in his spot. He's wearing a borrowed suit—the jacket is really one size too big—and he's never been comfortable in any sort of dressy clothing. The ballroom is crowded, more crowded than he remembers it ever being. Then again, it's certainly a special occasion.

He tips an imaginary hat at Orion—a nice enough chap, but he doesn't really have any sort of appreciation for music or art and so the two men rarely get along. Well, especially once Bert had noticed the way the other man had looked at Mary Poppins. Still, they're both too affable to make any sort of drama and they're friendly enough to each other.

A hush falls over the room as the band stops playing and everyone turns their attention to the staircase.

Mary Poppins stands there, her posture perfect as she surveys the crowd. Bert's gaze travels down and he nearly loses his breath while his heart starts to beat faster. She's dressed in a beautiful gown, but dressed almost isn't the right word for it. The material all but floats around her, clinging only down to her slender waist and then flowing away, cascading loosely down around her legs to the floor. The neckline is modest, but daring for the constantly prim Mary Poppins. His eyes trace her bare shoulders and he can just barely make out the shadow of her clavicle. But most surprisingly, the fabric is a stunningly pale, pure silver. It glows in the soft candlelight and Bert can't help but think that she looks more celestial than the constellations in the room. Her hair falls in soft waves and crystals glimmer in her hair. At least he thinks they're crystals, but this is Mary Poppins and they could just as easily be small stars.

"I want to thank you all for coming tonight," she starts, smiling down at the crown. "It delights me to see so many friendly faces. I won't make a speech of any sort, but just know that I am so thankful that each and every one of you is here to celebrate my birthday with me. Now please, let the festivities begin!"

The crowd applauds as she descends the stairs. Maybe it's just Bert's imagination but he thinks she looks around hesitantly when she does, her eyes lighting up when she sees something near him. Perhaps Orion, he thinks with a frown. Mary and the hunter constellation have always been close. Bert watches jealously as Orion approaches her.

He watches him preen and Mary smile politely. His jaw nearly drops when she says a few words to Orion but then politely excuses herself. She grins when she sees Bert.

"Mary, you look… radiant," he says earnestly.

"You look dashing too, Bert," she replies, blushing slightly.

"What did Orion want?"

"A dance," she says frankly. "I agreed, but said that I simply must see you first. You aren't feeling uncomfortable, are you?"

He shakes his head. "No." It's a bit of a lie, but not too big of one. "If you're 'appy, Mary, I'm more'n 'appy."

She leans impulsively and kisses him on the cheek. He blushes, his cheeks turning bright crimson. "Thank you for everything."

She drifts off, fulfilling her role as hostess but Bert simply can't keeps his eyes off of her. The night Mary Poppins wore silver is the night Herbert Alfred knows that he's in love.


	27. Mad

**I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. **_mad._** thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Mad_

Bert doesn't think he's ever seen Mary Poppins really and truly angry before. He's seen her frustrated, and upset, but not angry.

Never in a million, trillion years would he have thought that the first time he'd see her mad, her fury would be directed at him. But now he's too angry to care. Yes, even the ever congenial Bert gets mad sometimes.

She shakes her head as she glares at him. "Let go of my wrist."

"No."

"_Let. Go._"

"No," he insists.

"Bert, you are being ridiculous and I need to leave!" she insists, struggling against his grasp.

"I don't care," he shrugs as the wind whips around them. "There's somethin' I need t' say t' you an' I won't let you go until you 'ear it."

"I don't _want _to hear it," she says adamantly. "I know what you're about to say and I don't want to hear it!"

"Mary, I love-." In the blink of an eye, she raises her other hand and strikes him across the cheek. It does the trick; he lets go of her. "Go."

Tears glint in her eyes as she realizes just what she's done. "Bert…"

"Go, Mary. That's what you want isn't it? T' not be tied down by anyone or anythin'. T' be free of entanglements, no matter what th' cost? Well, no matter what you say or do, I'm mad about ya an' if that's what you want, that's what you'll get from me. Go."

"Bert, I-"

"Go."

"Is that what you want me to do?"

"I want you t' do what you want t' do. An' apparently that 'as nothin' to do with me."

He turns and walks away, hands in his pockets. He only turns around in time to see her straighten her back in defiance, raise her umbrella and float away.

He doesn't miss the single teardrop that falls down her cheek as she does.


	28. Order

**I am supposed to be done today. I'm trying desperately to finish on time.**

**I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. _**order.**_ thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Order_

If there is one thing Mary Poppins demands, it is order. Rooms must be clean, clothing properly arranged. People have proper places in their family. A time for everything and everything in its place.

And that is why Herbert Alfred drives her up a wall. Everything about him screams chaos, from his sloppy clothing to his lopsided grin.

He loves it though, she knows. Mary can tell that he will purposely leave a smudge of chalk on his face or wind his scarf carelessly about his neck, just to see her face. Just to drive her crazy, to make her pull out her handkerchief and wipe at his cheek.

He drives her crazy, that smug smirk as she adjusts his scarf makes her want to smack him. She demands order and he gives her nothing but chaos. He disrupts her plans.

Worse, he disrupts her thoughts. She'll be calmly planning an outing for the children and suddenly he'll pop up in her thoughts. She'll start wondering how she can manage a trip to the park, how she can see that lopsided grin one more time.

She demands order, but sometimes she thinks she could do with a bit more chaos in her life.


	29. Wind

**I'm trying really hard to get this done today or tomorrow!**

**I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. _**wind.**_ order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Wind_

Mary stretches lazily, happily tilting her head back to meet the sun's rays. She smiles softly, enjoying the warmth on her skin. Her smile stretches into a grin and her eyes pop open when she feels lips on her cheek, right near the corner of her mouth. "What was that for?" she asks.

Bert shrugs. "I wanted to. Didn't think you'd mind."

"Never."

He tugs her into his embrace. Settling between his legs, she leans back against his solid chest and delights in the feeling of his arms around her waist. He brushes lips against the back of her neck, right below her hairline. She shudders and he chuckles, which doesn't help the shuddering situation since she feels his laughter ripple through her body.

"I love you," he whispers into her ear. She smiles again and a slight breeze starts to play with the tendrils of her hair.

"Not now," she groans. "Please, not now."

The wind becomes more insistent and Bert's hold on her waist tightens for a moment. "It's time?" he asks.

"I don't want to go!" she complains.

"Mary, love, we'll always 'ave our Tuesdays."

"That isn't enough!"

He tries to let go of her waist, but she turns and grabs at his arms desperately. The wind begins to pick up even more, blowing leaves down from the trees. She begins to wince as the tugging on her body becomes painful. "Mary, please," he begs. "Go. You're 'urting. I'll be 'ere when you come back. I always will."

"Promise me."

"I promise," he nods. "I'll promise you whatever you want. I love you, Mary."

"I love you too, Bert."

She leans in for one last kiss…

And wakes up.

Mary groans in frustration. This is the fourth time she's had this dream and the fourth time she's woken up before his lips touch hers. The wind can't blow her back to London soon enough.


	30. Thanks

**I promised painfully fluffy fluff, did I not? (Well, I didn't here, but I did on tumblr- link on my profile- and I hope I don't disappoint!) There may or may not be a small nod to a certain head canon of mine.**

**I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. denial. wind. order. **_thanks._** look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Thanks_

Mary looks down at the tiny bundle in her arms. "Shh," she coos quietly, rocking back and forth. "It's alright. I'm here."

She's dead on her feet, practically sleepwalking, but Mary can't complain. As the wailing subsides, Mary looks at the nearby clock. "Oh, you're probably hungry, aren't you?" she thinks aloud, reaching up to start unbuttoning her blouse and sitting in the rocking chair that is in the nursery just for this purpose.

"Mary, you're awake?"

She looks up and smiles when she sees Bert in the doorway. "Clary was fussing," she explains, "so I came to get her."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he complains, coming into the room.

"I was still awake. I'm not even into my nightgown yet and you were sleeping so peacefully, I couldn't wake you. You've been so working so hard, I thought you could use the rest. Besides, she's hungry and unfortunately that's simply not something you can help with!"

He grins, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. "It isn't work, love. Not for m' two favorite girls."

She smiles softly and shifts her daughter slightly so she can look up at him. "Thank you, Bert."

"For what, love?"

Mary shrugs and nods at Clarisse, who has just about had her fill and is starting to blink sleepily. "For everything. For Clary. For loving me. There's a laundry list of things I could thank you for."

"Mary," he laughs. "I should be thanking _you _for her an' for makin' my life th' 'appiest it's ever been."

She shakes her head and gives him a saucy wink. "I certainly couldn't have done anything without you."

He laughs- a big, belly laugh- but she quickly shushes him. "If you disturb this baby, so help me God…"

He grimaces. "Sorry," he whispers.

"Back to bed, Mr. Alfred," she orders with a smile. "I'll finish up here and put Clary to sleep. Go get some rest."

"Not without a kiss from m' loving wife," he disagrees.

"You have one?" she jokes, "I'd like to meet her. Where do you keep her?"

"Mostly in the closet," he grins. "Thought there might be trouble should you run into her."

"Don't be smart with me!" She narrows her eyes but she can't keep a sparkle out of them.

He bends down again and kisses her. "Night, Mary. Thank you." He tenderly places a kiss on Clary's head. "Sweet dreams, little one."

As Mary rocks her daughter to sleep, she sends up a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for her daughter, husband, and life. Once she's sure that Clary is asleep, she places her back in the crib with a soft kiss. Then she goes to her own room, quickly changes into her nightgown and slides into bed. A perfect smile spreads across her face as Bert wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her snugly against him. The sound of his heartbeat lulls her into a deep slumber.

She doesn't dream. There's no need; she already has everything she could possibly dream of.


	31. Denial

**The last one. This is actually kind of sad. I really like these drabbles. It's been a fun adventure and I thank you all for taking it with me. I adore you all. And to those of you who took the time to review: you are my favorite people on this planet. Congratulations on your existence.**

**I own nothing.**

beginning. accusation. restless. snowflake. haze. flame. formal. companion. move. silver. prepared. knowledge. **_denial._ **wind. order. thanks. look. summer. transformation. tremble. sunset. mad. thousand. outside. winter. diamond. letters. promise. simple. future.

* * *

_Denial_

The stars shine brightly on the rooftops of London and the sweeps are a raucous bunch tonight. Mary simply can't help but laugh at their antics. And she can't take her eyes off of Bert. He shines in this sort of company; he's silly and charming, but never loses that hint of gentlemanly poise that gives her such confidence in him.

Earlier that day, one of her charges had asked if she was in love with him. Rather tactlessly, she might add. The small boy had asked her loudly if she loved the chimney sweep. Bert had been standing right there and his eyes had nearly popped out of his head, but he had stayed quiet, leaving her to fend for herself against the innocent question.

She had stuttered at the beginning of her answer. Well, she had been caught off guard!

"B-bert… Mr. Alfred and I are nothing more than dear friends," she had denied, regaining her footing in the conversation quickly. "I do love him as a friend, but we are not _in _love."

She had whisked the little boy away then, without so much as a glance at Bert. Her cheeks were burning and she couldn't even fathom looking at the sweep. Not because she was in love with him, of course, but because she was so embarrassed by her charge's behavior.

"Oy, Mary!" Bert calls. "C'mere!"

She looks up and glares. "I will _not _be summoned like some common wench, Herbert Alfred. Kindly remind yourself that I am a lady and will be treated as such."

He gives her such a confident grin that she's absolutely certain that he had been hoping for that exact reaction. "Miss Poppins," he rephrases with a laugh, "Darling, wonderful, lovely, Miss Poppins, would you do me th' absolute favor of blessin' me with your beautiful presence over 'ere by th' edge of th' roof?"

She straightens her spine and shakes out her hair as she stands. "While I certainly do not appreciate the lip, Mr. Alfred, flattery will get you everywhere. Now, what would you like?"

"C'mere!" he exclaims, gesturing at her to come even closer. As she does, he stands very, very close to her, pointing out towards the horizon, "Look."

He's pointing out at the way the light of the silvery moon glints and glimmers off the river, but she has to focus too much on keeping her breath even to truly enjoy the view. "Oh, Bert," she sighs. "It's beautiful."

"Not th' only beautiful thing up 'ere," he comments. She turns to look at him, nearly bumping her nose into his cheek because she's surprised him and moved before he can get out of the way. "What? I'm just sayin'. You're aesthetically pleasin'!"

"You just think you're oh so charming, don't you?" she accuses him.

"I'm 'oping one day t' get you t' fall madly in love with me. Then I'll drop th' charm."

She laughs. "I do so hope you have a backup plan."

"What, you don't think I can get you t' fall madly in love with me?" he asks. "That 'urts, Mary."

"I'm sorry," she says lightly. "But I just want you to be realistic."

"I've already got little Charlie there convinced," he retorts, bringing up the incident from earlier today.

She blushes profusely, but the dim lighting is enough to hide it. Her voice sounds much stronger than she feels. "Charlie is a young, impressionable boy who doesn't understand the complexities of adult relationships. It certainly isn't any sort of feat to convince him."

He grins easily in the face of her scorn, enjoying this conversation far more than she feels he has a right to. It's only because he's not taking it truly seriously. As far as he knows, it's just a game. "Alright, Mary. I'll let you live in denial a bit longer. But you just wait, Mary Poppins. One day, I'll 'ave you convinced that you love me nearly as much as I do you."

He quickly kisses her cheek and dances off across the roof. She raises her hand to her cheek, lightly tracing the spot where his lips had been only moments before.

And then his words replay in her mind. Has he just admitted to loving her?

She rather wishes she hadn't been so adamant in her denial.


End file.
